


more than forgiveness

by softshark



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 07:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18566506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softshark/pseuds/softshark
Summary: Idril and Maeglin have a conversation about forgiveness in the late ages of Aman, after all the pain of Beleriand.





	more than forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, friendolinis! This is a revamping of my previous fic of the same name. I deleted that guy, because I it was truly a mess, and reworked it into this one! Enjoy!

Maeglin was doing well. As well as one could be doing, given the circumstances. He had built a small stone hut for himself, hidden in the foothills of the Pelori, on a sloping mountainside over Tirion, isolated. He lived alone, far from the settlements of the other Sindar, which they had set up to live apart from the Valar and the Calaquendi.

 It suited him: isolation. And living on the fringes between the Noldor and the Sindar….. Seemed fitting.

Maeglin sighed. He did not know why he had been allowed to return from the Halls. After much reflection, he had let go of hate, had buried it deep down, and come to accept that he was the monster he let his hate transform him into.

He had stopped blaming the others who hurt him.

He didn’t know why he had done what he did. In retrospect, he really didn’t, revealing Gondolin’s location under duress was one thing, but he had actively… Actively added in it’s downfall. Maeglin shuddered. It seemed, to him, that the person he was before his mother died and the person he was afterwards, and the person he is now, after his own death, are three differen’t people.

His mother had come to try and see him, in his little hideaway, and he avoided her. He had sensed her coming, and had fled, waiting until she relented in her search of him to return to his hut. She and he had coalesced in the Halls, the two of them, and she had forgiven him, had loved him and reassured him, and he had wept and healed his broken soul in the arms of hers; but now that they were out here, in the real, tangible world, his mother deserved a life free from being the mother of a pariah; she deserved to be Irissë the wild hearted and free spirited princess of the Noldor once more, before Maeglin’s father stole that from him. To no longer be the unwilling mother of a Sinda bastard, mother of a murderer and a traitor.

He did not want to look her in her actual eyes and admit his shame.

 

Maeglin’s grandfather had come, too, with the uncle that he hadn’t known, his eldest uncle, the onetime King. They had come seeking him, and Maeglin could feel in his heart that they genuinely longed for him, but he had avoided them just the same. It had almost broken his resolve- his uncle. For Maeglin knew of Maedhros, and the things he did and that his uncle had loved and forgiven him, even still.

Almost. But not quite.

 

The uncle he _had_ known, however, the one whom Maeglin had loved and considered almost a father which then turned to resentment, then hate; never came. He never came to try and see Maeglin, and, if Maeglin had not foresworn hate, he thinks he probably would have hated him all the more.

But instead he just felt sorrow.

But sorrow was better than hate.

Maeglin sighed, plunking his firewood down to get to chopping it, before his heart skipped.

Someone was coming, and that someone….

_No, it could not be._

Maeglin did not have time to flee properly, so he followed his instincts, and darted up into the trees above his hut, disappearing like the prince of the Twilight Woods.

And then she came in to the clearing.  
She had changed, significantly so- she looked older, more assured in her power and in herself, and dignified…. But she was still the same, still barefoot, and still shining like light…. And it made Maeglin’s heart hurt.

He didn’t love her anymore, not the way he did. (Though, he never really loved her the way he thought he had in the first place, anyway.)

Idril glanced around the clearing, scowling, then scanned the trees.  
“Maeglin, I know you are here. I can sense you.” Maeglin fidgeted, unsure of what to do.  
“Maeglin. You destroyed my city, caused the death of my father and all my friends and family, and ruined the lives of all my people. The least you can do is face me; the blood of Fingolfin runs in your veins just as it does in mine, I know you must be capable of some amount of courage and dignity.”  
  


Maeglin flinched, took in a shaking breath, then dropped from the trees…. Standing to face her. The last time he had faced her….. he had been falling backwards from a high, high peek, and her face had been merely a mask of pure hate.

 

As for now, there was something like anger in her face, but it wasn’t hate. And even her anger seemed…. Something closer to frustration.

“Idril,” He mumbled as a means of greeting.  
She regarded him for a moment, before saying, “You’ve changed, Maeglin Lómion, Aredhelion.” Then allowed silence to fall between them. Idril seemed to be assessing him, and Maeglin laid himself bare, allowing her to do so.

“I am changed.” He said, softly, “The fire of hate that was in me has gone out. But you are also changed, princess.”  
Idril continued to assess him, silently.  
Maeglin exhaled, shakily, “Why’ve you come here, Idril?”  
She looked him in the eye, then, and said, “I’m here on behalf of people who I love, Maeglin. I’ve come to bring you home.”  
Maeglin blinked, his mind going blank in confusion, “Home?”  
“Your home is in Tirion, not here.” She said, rolling her neck and allowing her gold curls to fall over her shoulder. “You are right, the hate that was in you is gone. I know not why or how- I cannot fathom what it is like to experience the Halls, but I know that it is gone, and I know that you are not evil.”  
Maeglin blinked in shock. Was this a joke? Some cruel joke? A just and appropriate revenge?  
Idril inhaled sharply through her nostrils, “And…. I’ve come to apologize to you.”  
Maeglin scoffed, “You? To me?”  
“Yes.” Idril replied, tightly. “I am not the little girl that I once was. I have had thousands of years to reflect on Gondolin, and what happened there, and between you, and me, and…. I hurt you, Maeglin. I know I did.”  
“You…” Maeglin pulled away slightly, heart hammering in his throat, wary of what was happening, wary of being hurt anymore, “You were disgusted by my overtures, that’s-that’s valid, Idril-“  
“No, I wasn’t. I mean… I was. Disgusted by your overtures. But more than that, I was disgusted by you…. For reasons that you didn’t deserve. I hated you because I saw you as the offspring of the man who kidnapped, raped, and murdered my beloved aunt. I saw you as this… this….” Idril inhaled a shaky breath, casting her eyes around for the word, “This _roach_. I hated you, Maeglin, before you even had a chance to deserve my hate. That doesn’t… excuse or justify what you did to me, to my people- to _our_ people, Maeglin.” She grabbed his arm vehemently then, nostrils flaring, “They were your people too. What you did was monstrous, and I have not forgiven you. I do not know if I ever can.”  
“Idril,” Maeglin said, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to process all of this. “I’m…. I’m really confused, right now-“  
“Why me, Maeglin?” The words came out sharp, but soft somehow, they did not cut. “Your mother came, the uncle and grandfather you always wanted to meet, a slew of people more likely to be kind to you than me, so why do you come out for me?”  
Maeglin looked away from her, eyes blinking rapidly, trying to figure that out for himself, before looking back to her, his voice meek, “There’s no one else in my life who has tormented me the way you have. Not necessarily intentionally.” He swallowed, fighting back tears he didn’t understand, “My relationship with you is so complicated, it still haunts my nightmares, seeing you I guess… My wits and resolve took leave. You have always had a command on me- I hated you for it.” He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, “I think also, maybe, I was hoping for your forgiveness.”  
  


She looked at him for a long time, watching him choke out shocked tears before she finally spoke, “Why do you hinge the forgiveness you seek on me? You hinge too much of yourself on me, you always have. Why is what you did to me any worse than what you did to anyone else in Gondolin?”  
Maeglin’s mouth hung open- he didn’t exactly have an answer. “I was a surrogate mother to you, Maeglin. You broadcasted your yearning for a maternal presence on me, and desired me simultaneously. The only person you ever had in life before then was your mother, and you’d never seen a pretty girl before. It was disturbed, but… It wasn’t your fault.” Idril pulled angrily on one of her curls, letting it bounce back. “It’s been many, many years Maeglin. I have learned much…. And I’ve learned much from those whom I love about what it means to experience true isolation; from my husband, and from my son and from his wife and their child… I have learned much of what is like to lose a mother at a young age.” Tears were burning in her eyes, now, “I lost my mother when I was a little girl, too, Maeglin. Just like you. But I… I had a whole, b-big family full of people who adored me. A father who spoiled me, and an aunt who… Made herself the mother that I needed.” She sniffled and wiped her own tears away. “I should have been kinder to you, Maeglin. I should have… when my Aunt Irissë died, it felt like I’d lost a mother again and she was…. She was your actual mother, I should have grieved with you, and found solace with you. But I was… I was fully grown then but I was still a spoiled little girl, and I _hated_ your father. And I hated that my auntie would die for you. I let myself hate, Maeglin, and that wasn’t fair to you.”

She sniffed again, squeezing her eyes shut. “Anyway, I don’t think the only reason you revealed yourself to me is because you think you owe me something, or you’re desperate for my forgiveness. I think a part of you, and a BIG part of you… Wants an apology from me. I’m here to give you that, Maeglin.”

He stared at her, his mind blank. “Maeglin?”  
He opened his mouth, “I… I suppose. I think maybe you’re right.”  
Idril nodded, she seemed relieved.  
Maeglin felt the epiphany of it wash over him, and he felt something akin to hate fill him again, and Maeglin sunk to the ground with a whimper. It was scary. “You shouldn’t have said that, Idril… It makes me… It makes me f-feel the hate again.”  
Idril sunk to her knees, too. “It’s not hate, Maeglin. It’s anger. And it’s part of the healing process.” She poked his shoulder, and the simple and seemingly affectionate gesture caught him off guard. “Can I tell you something? Mandos is an idiot.”  
Maeglin startled, blinking in surprise. Turgon and Idril had always been reverent and adoring of the Valar, just like her Vanya mother had taught them to be.  
She rolled her eyes, “Oh don’t look at me like that. Like I said, I’m not the stupid little girl I used to be. My eyes have long since been opened, and I understand now how they tore my family and my people apart, and I watched them continue to do so even after your death. Mandos is a wretched fool who understands the Children not at all. He thinks the answer to healing and forgiveness is repression, numbness, and conditional on the forgiveness of others. That is a stupid thing, good grief, it’s so stupid. Ignore whatever it is he taught you. Let yourself feel anger Maeglin, but don’t let it consume you.” Suddenly she looked sad again, “Ask forgiveness from others, you have to, but don’t let your…. Your future and your ability to forgive yourself hinge on that. You did a horrendous, terrible thing, Maeglin. But that doesn’t make null and void everything that was inflicted on you. The hurt you faced. Maeglin, I’m sorry. I’m truly, and genuinely, sorry for everything I did to hurt you.”  
“But you haven’t forgiven me.” He said, bitterly, “You acknowledge you hurt me, but you haven’t forgiven me.”  
“That’s not how that works.” She said flatly. “You haven’t forgiven me, have you?”  
He looked at her, and he knew his eyes likely looked more like the eyes of the hateful boy she knew. “No.”  
“But you acknowledge you committed an act of evil, and you’re genuinely repentant for it?”  
He looked away from her, the tears on his face hot and angry now, “… Yes.”  
“Well there you go.” She said, shrugging her shoulder. “We’re on the same page.”  
There was quiet between them for a long time. He got the feeling she could sense he was processing things and was allowing him to do so. He felt… Something shift in his heart at this admission. He felt like…. “Do you remember when I stumbled home from wandering the wilds around Gondolin? And I had bitten by a snake.”  
Idril looked wary, “Yes.”  
“Ecthelion slashed the bite open, he dug his dagger into my skin and opened the wound much, much wider, after I’d done so much to hastily bandage it… And then he drained the poison out and… The initial slash hurt so much, but feeling the poison drain out… That was ecstasy.”  
He didn’t need to expand on why he had brought that up, she understood what he was trying to say. “Good, Maeglin. That’s the beginning of the path to peace and forgiveness.”  
Quiet fell again. They sat on the forest floor. Not looking at each other. Thinking.

“You haven’t forgiven yourself, have you?” She asked the profile of his face, he still wasn’t looking at her.  
“…… No.”  
“You will.” She patted his knee.  
“And you think I should?” He demanded, sharply, snapping his head back to look at her.

“Not for me to decide. I meant what I said, earlier. My forgiveness isn’t what your road to peace and forgiveness should be hinged on. I don’t want it to be, it’s unfair to you and it’s unfair to me. You need to let your hyper fixation on me go.”  
“Earlier you said… You came to take me.” He blinked at her, ignoring the cruel slight that was all to true “’ _Home_.’”  
“I did.” She stood up. “You are a son of Finwë through your grandsire Fingolfin. You do not belong in the woods. You belong in Tirion.”  
“You get to decide where I do and don’t belong?” He smiled at her bitterly.  
“No, I don’t. But I think you want to be in Tirion. My father and I are no longer your only family. You have a massive family in Tirion, Maeglin, who want to know you and love you and help you. You have a mother who loves you and wishes for you desperately. And there are people there…. Who are the victims of your actions who _have_ forgiven you.” Idril threw her head back and laughed, “You know something, Maeglin? The House of Fingolfin is renowned for it’s love of family above all else and it’s propensity for compassion, if not forgiveness.”  
“It seems those traits skipped over the two of us. Like most of the traits of that great house that seem to have done for me.”  
“Less than you think.” She said, kicking his knee. “You are not so unworthy of being a son of Fingolfin as you seem to think. And I think….” She rocked her head back and forth, “I think it’s unfair to say love of family and compassion, if not forgiveness, skipped over me. Were it not for those things, I would not be here. I came to bring you back to Tirion- for my love of our family. Because the people I love who also love you, and I came here for compassion. Compassion for you and all you have suffered. Sometimes compassion is more important than forgiveness.”  
“Maybe…” He said, absently.  
“Come back to Tirion, Maeglin. Hiding away in the woods and refusing to try and forgive yourself does nothing for the people you’ve hurt. The people who will never forgive you don’t matter. The only thing you owe them is your true, sincere apology…. Other than that, there’s nothing else you can do. The people who’ve already forgiven you… This-“ She gestured around, “Hermitage only hurts them…. And the people who might come to forgive you never will if you are here and not where they are. Making an effort.”

She crouched down again, to bring herself eye to eye again. “You know our kinsman Maglor?”  
“…. Aye.” He eyed her, warily and bitterly, “They say after the Fall of the Hidden City he became a mass murderer. Evil.”  
“Yes. But you know what? He decided to go and face the people he hurt, instead of hiding away, to wasting away. He made an effort, Maeglin. And it mattered. And in the long run, both he and…. Many of his victims were happier for it, and he certainly was.” She stood back up and offered her hand to him. “Come to Tirion, Maeglin. Make the effort. For your sake, and everyone else’s.”  
He eyed her hand for a long time, before taking it and allowing her to pull him up. He dusted himself off, then looked around at the little hideaway her carved out for himself. “I’m… I am frightened. Of going there.”  
  
“I know, Maeglin. But effort, like compassion, means more than forgiveness, sometimes. Most times.”  
He exhaled. The anger in him abated, for the time being. And looking at her, he felt gratitude, giving her a small smile, “Can we really co-exist, Idril? If you and I both still resent each other? Haven’t forgiven each other?”  
“We have to.” She said, dusting off his shoulder. “We’ve hurt people, and people hurt us. I will co-exist with you for the sake of others, and for the sake of my own penance.” She locked eyes with him, and smiled. “I think, in time, even we could maybe forgive each other. There is a long time still, before the Remaking.”  
He huffed, and looked at the sky.

“We’re Nolofinwions, Maeglin.” She said, and it startled him, he whipped his head back around to look at her. She had spoken to him in Quenyan. In Gondolin…. Both Sindarin and Quenyan had been spoken, but the royal family always spoke Quenyan and Sindarin had been spoke- xcept for Maeglin and Idril. She had always refused to speak to him in Quenyan. A refusal to accept or acknowledge him as one of their own.  
“I… Idril…”  
“Itarillë is my name, Maeglin. That is what they call me in Tirion, and we speak Quenyan. You should get used to it.”  
  


Compassion and effort… These were the things Idril had said were more than forgiveness, and that the former was her duty, and the latter was Maeglin’s… But it would seem she was willing to put forth effort, too.  
“You’ll come back to Tirion with me then?”  
“Yeah…” He smiled, “I will.”  
She gave him a small, tentative smile in return.  
Compassion. Effort.

 


End file.
